As they shot forward the double ranks of the gantlet fell together like a house of cards and the crowd surged upon the heels of the runners.
The president had proceeded to the end of the course. Looking back he saw them coming. He saw them straining, neck and neck, the nerves and cords below their ears standing out round, like ropes. He saw their lips drawn back, thin and livid over gritted teeth. He saw their bulging eyes, eyes that in turn saw nothing; and he heard the crowd at the rear.
Closer and closer—they seemed abreast—and then—and then——
A scant fifteen feet from the string, Nibs Morey leaped and plunged forward. Such a spurt had never before been seen on State Street. Even the president, flinging aside his well-worn dignity, cheered on the long, lank figure, which hurled itself that instant across the string, and fell limp and panting into his open arms!
"Well done, my boy," he cried,—"and you, too!" This to Billy, who was upon him a fine fraction of a second later. "You are both champions,—I am proud of you."
And as they relaxed, weak and faint, he seized a hand of each in his own and shook them strongly. Then he threaded his way back through the seething crowd that had come up. Cheer upon cheer rent the atmosphere—cheers for Nibs, and cheers for Billy, who had done his best and failed, with greater honor to him, than if he had won without effort.
IV
At the bottom of the course, with the long-heralded event slipping with the moments into history, and surrounded by their cheering fellow-collegians, the eyes of the contestants met again, nor did they waver, nor did a challenge leap between them. They smiled; their hands shot forth with one accord, met and clutched, and it was then that another cheer arose unlike those that had gone before—a cheer that was a cheer. As it ended, Jimmy Hulburt, in a moment of fine frenzy, for him, cried:
"I'm willing to bet ten dollars at two to one that Nibsey Morey can beat anybody runnin' that walks!"